


Crosstalk

by The_Floating_World



Series: Fractals [1]
Category: Katekyou Hitman Reborn!
Genre: (on accident), Self-Insert, Skull has a backstory, Worldbuilding, and wakes up with another person in his head, except not really since she's not me, just the trope, skull dies
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-13
Updated: 2018-06-07
Packaged: 2019-04-22 03:45:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,933
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14300064
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Floating_World/pseuds/The_Floating_World
Summary: Skull has died before, but never quite like this.  Now he has an extra person and set of memories swimming around in his head. But honestly, it's not the worst thing that's happened to him.Now they just have to figure out how far they're willing to go to find out how they can do the things they do (this wizard magician guy looks sketchy as hell) and what they might be giving up in doing so.





	1. Crosswired

**Author's Note:**

> I'm having a hard time in writing for my other stories, but I wanted to write something. Don't know if I'll continue it or not or just leave it a oneshot. It's kind of a mess, honestly, but I like it anyway. 
> 
> The SI/OC here doesn't particularly reflect my personality or have the same background. She also doesn't watch anime and has NO CLUE she is in one.

Skull died.  Which isn’t saying much, as Skull dies a _lot_.  Or, Skull _almost_ dies a lot.  “Should be dead but is verifiably not” is the running theme.

This time Skull may have actually died.  Or gotten much closer to dying than typical, at least.  Something must have been different than usual.

Because _he_ doesn’t wake up post-mortem. _They_ do. 

Well it’s not like he’s gone or anything; now he just remembers being her.  Or, she argues, she is remembering being him, because he is living in her chronological past.  But, he thinks, she never remembered being him before _she_ died, and death is a lot more permanent for her.  Plus she had watched some show on her weird technology that said time wasn’t really linear and more a big ball of “wibbly-wobbly timey-wimey stuff” ( _terminology he can really get behind_ ), so _there_.

It doesn’t actually matter who was first or second in the end.  They’re Skull now.

Happily, Skull never cared much for gender or gender norms in the first place and the addition of a life as a female doesn’t particularly bother him.  Or them, as it is. 

He wore make-up in a time where it wasn’t okay for a man to _before_ his consciousness fused with hers.  Although, Skull is an entertainer, and there is far more allowance in flamboyance in that trade opposed to others.

They are a _stuntman_.  Wasn’t that just the coolest thing?  She had never done anything near so exciting in her past life.  Skull had also traveled _everywhere_ and spoke many ( _mainly European, admittedly_ ) languages.  She only had English ( _which he mostly already knew, though perhaps not to her fluency_ ) and Chinese to contribute.  It was quite impressive, and certainly an exciting life to wake up to.  Even if the time period left much to be desired.

Then again, _holy shit_ was she _leagues_ more well adjusted.  She had had a relatively average life in a middle-ish class family in America in the 21st century.  Being a minority could be a bitch at times, she could not count how many times she was asked where she was from despite clearly being American _Yes I’m Chinese but I’m clearly not from China you unobservant moron_ , but she got on well enough even when those surrounding her were idiots.  She had a job, had a life with family and friends, the occasional lover if she found someone she liked enough, a stable income, and was overall satisfied. 

Skull, not so much.  He hadn’t even been able to get out of being a minority.  And was even worse off than she was. 

She didn’t know much of the Romani people in her last life, maybe vague recollections of a trashy reality TV show.  Something Skull is overwhelmingly unimpressed about. 

Skull and his family had roamed across Europe, unwanted and ostracized by the locals of each nation.  The people of these places always claimed their hostility was for a reason; the Romani were invaders, lazy, uneducated, thieves, degenerates, a burden on their society.  They were worthless, worse than useless, not worth the dirt beneath their shoes.  It was something Skull couldn’t help but somewhat internalize, having heard it so often in his formative years.

She, however, was quite happy to call racist bullshit.  They were the same type of lies white people would come up about any minority to make themselves look superior – systematic oppression and stereotyping to the point even the oppressed begin to believe it themselves.  Unfortunately, it didn’t change that much even decades from now. 

It blew her mind, because while Skull should have been able to pass for white _much_ easier than she had, people always, _always_ seem to be able to sniff out anyone different from them.  Hatred for the sake of hatred.

( _The white face paint, she thinks, may have more uses than to just add a sense of drama and flamboyance.  Useful and even practical at points, but with unhealthy connotations_ )

Fuck people, honestly.

Skull, the _they_ Skull, not just him, also thought that while his life was a relative dumpster fire in comparison, her sedentary life now sounded _excruciating._

Skull had spent his entire life travelling.  His home had never been a singular place ( _he hadn’t had a home for a while, admittedly_ ) instead the road, the horizon became something familiar and loved.  His caravan, with his mother and extended family ( _though most not actually related_ ), had been constantly on the move, one place to another.  They may settle down for a while, a few months at most, but the one truth of Skull’s life was that they would eventually pack up their wagons and move on.

Skull’s family was full of entertainers, full of showmen or mystics or acrobats or conmen depending on what is needed ( _Gypsies, they are called_ ).  They could also transform themselves into workers for any sort of job that may be willing to hire them in the area.  His childhood enabled him to become someone who could transfigure themselves into whoever they needed to be to survive; a flamboyant arrogant stuntman who defies death, as it turned out.

 He came by his showmanship honestly, he likes to think.

Skull even inherited his ability to tell death to come by another day .  He was told of it in whispers of stories, dark solemn eyes, warm arms wrapped around him, a stern mouth given to warmth, the rocking of their moving wagon a rolling of the sea, the story a lullaby of a legend. 

Even in the past, World War Two predates them.  But it does not predate their mother.  As always as always _as always_ the Romani were unwanted, and the Nazis hunted them ruthlessly, as they did the Jews, as they did all the peoples that did not reflect their arbitrary beliefs. 

She was young then, but you are always too young to experience such a devastation of humanity.  She told him about how her family was taken, how she never saw her younger brother again and that they lead her grandmother and grandfather to chambers that no one ever emerged from. 

On the way there, to that dark place, her grandmother had held her in the train that had been jammed full of people, the stink of fear and hopelessness filling her nose.  It had not been the beginning of the war.  They did not get the American’s ignorance.  They knew what type of place they were going to, that there was a hell on earth.

But her grandmother’s voice was sure, sturdy as an ancient tree as she tells her “our family is no stranger to being hunted.  They have wanted us gone long before now, and will want us gone long after.  But we are those who spite death, who look him in the eye and tell him we will live.  We are the free and none can cage us.  This is our will.  You shall live.”

Those were her grandmother’s last words to her.  She watched as her grandmother cupped her crying daughter’s, her mother’s, wet cheek before being pulled away.  The old woman had turned and caught her granddaughter’s eye, not smiling but certain.  She turned and went to finally greet death.

His mother had lived.

She did not know how much later it was.  Time ceased to matter as everyone grew gray and turned skeletal, death dogging their steps and in the eyes and fists of the Nazi guards.

But there are those few that seem to hold on longer than others, fires burning in them and propelling them onwards even when they should die.  Those are taken to the doctors, the scientists.  They are looking for something.  They are looking for whatever is in those people that drives them to defy death. 

It is in her, she knows.  She does not know if her grandmother put it there, or if it has always been there, or if it has been born in the bones and ashes of her devastation, but it is there.  Roiling.  Hurt.  Furious.  Longing to be free.

She still has her mother, though she wanes.  She thinks the woman also has the something, but it is not as fierce as hers.  She will not let her mother go to the doctors, not let herself go to the doctors.  When the others find the voice to whisper, they say it is an even worse fate than their own.

She does not know the point of time between when she acknowledges these truths and when she acts on them.  Time was for people outside the land of the dead and damned.  She would get time back. 

It is not easy to escape the camp, almost impossible, though not as impossible as some others.  The soldiers have guns and a death warrant for every one of them.  But she still has her mother and her grandmother’s promise of life; she is an heir to freedom. 

She is outside and her mother is next to her.  There are less soldiers than there should be.  Later, she knows the war has turned against the Nazis and some have gone as reinforcements and others have fled. 

Suddenly, she sees her path out.  There is a break in the patrol.  There are only two men between her and her mother and freedom, and while this should have still been insurmountable for a child, she is suddenly not one.

She is fire. 

It roars from within her, baying for blood and vengeance.  These fools had caged those who were meant to be free as the wind.  She must mete out retribution. 

She is suddenly faster, stronger than should be possible.  The Nazis are too startled to even properly hold their guns before she tears into them.  Her skeletal hands rending flesh, blood staining them as if she is the reaper of souls incarnate.

She felt nothing for killing these men.  For while they had become animals in the eyes of the Nazis, the Nazis had become less than human to them too.  Monsters.  And monsters are meant to be slain. 

They are dead on the ground but she does not stop.  She returns to her mother, who stands dazed in shock, and lifts the older woman with inhuman strength.

Then she runs. 

Skull’s mother usually ends the story there.  She says that the time that follows is not any easier than her time in hell.  There are different challenges and death is just as insistent as it had been under the Nazis, but they are free.  Freedom and the defiance of death are their family’s birthright. 

That is why, Skull ( _except he was not Skull then_ ), even when you fell from the wagon and hit your head or when those white boys held your head under the water for too long, you do not die.

You, son, have inherited our birthright, and have magnified it to a strength that is greater than even mine.  You are the boy death hates and the road loves.

Skull loves his mother.  He ( _and she agreed_ ) thought she had the strength of heroes of myth, the incandescence of stars, a spirit as free as the wind.

But then she died, and he could not hide that he cannot die, and even among the Romani there are those that are unfit, unwanted.

Cursed.

A living dead-boy.  Born of his mother who walked through the land of the dead and came out a living skeleton.  Skull of our brethren who is beholden to death ( _those not of his direct bloodline don’t quite get it.  He is not_ of _death – he_ defies _it.  But that is not something easy to know_ ) 

And so now he is Skull de Mort, the immortal stuntman hated by death, and all the world is his to travel. 

Well, now _they_ are Skull. They live Skull’s life but now have all of the information and learning that she had access to in her life.  They went to _college_ ; she worked in finance and is an ace at numbers.

Which is good, because she is pretty sure some have taken advantage of Skull’s lack of learning and cheated him.  They will no longer tolerate that.  Skull is used to being trodden on, and accepts it so long as it doesn’t permanently inhibit him.  She, though, had spent her life fighting for respect and would rip someone apart before tolerating disregard. 

They admittedly have clashing personalities in some parts, and there is certainly a disparity in their self confidence and senses of self worth, but they will work on melding them.  She will miss having a tight knit family to rely on, but the freedom of their life is absolutely delicious. 

Of course, she also knows there are quite a few discrepancies with Skull’s abilities and even appearance, naturally purple eyed and haired as they are. Which is weird, because while Skull knows normal people don’t heal like him, it is not quite usual but not _unnatural_ for people to have hair or eyes colored any shade of the rainbow.

There are also a couple things not quite right with Skull’s knowledge of history – Italy stayed completely out of WWII, while she is certain that they were involved ( _and switched sides perhaps?  History was not her strongest subject_ ).  There are some other facts that seem to not quite fit the shape of her knowledge of the world in this time period, but she cannot quite grasp them.  Their cohabitation was rather sudden and there are some jagged edges among their memories and personalities, although they think they are just one soul. 

Either way, it seems that this world may not be quite the same as their past one.  Perhaps there is magic here?  She was never the whimsical type, but she thinks it is interesting nevertheless.  He is prone to thinking such things are rather cool, although his form of “magic” is rather morbid, and painful on top of it.  Still, it is something for Skull to keep in mind and mull over as they continue their tour.

Which they will have to convince their manager about since they just took a spectacular dive in front of him that would have killed anyone else.  Or, it did kill them, but they are not very good at staying dead.

She feels a bit smug because this is true for her even individually, as she may have died once rather permanently, but here she is alive and kicking.

Skull silently thanks the dark material of their suite for hiding most of the blood and pulls themselves up to deal with their frantic manager, grinning despite the helmet blocking their face.

It is time to continue to live.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've never written for KHR, and Skull doesn't even make the list of my favorite characters, but I thought his whole "can't die" shtick could interact interestingly with the SI/OC trope. I also accidentally ended up developing him and giving him a background. 
> 
> I ended up developing some reasons for why canon Skull doesn't have a "territory" (canon or fanon? Unsure) and why he lets people (Reborn) walk all over him despite being a cloud flame. I'm pretty sure there's a whole soft/inverted flame thing but, eh. Also I'm just retconning his whole perverted thing as one of those stupid tropes in anime that are supposed to be funny and ignoring it. 
> 
> I feel like since dying will flames are awoken from traumatic experiences/not wanting to die, persecuted populations would probably activate them up at higher rates, even if they have no clue what they are. Thus, Skull comes from a line of cloud users, although they don't know what flames are. 
> 
> Lastly, sorry if the pronouns are confusing. Skull as they exist now are a "they", but they're not completely melded together at this point. Skull's previous incarnation (the SI/OC) and original Skull sometimes both have different thoughts or opinions based on their individual experiences, reflected in the "she" or "he". I suppose they could be considered genderfluid (...kinda) at this point. They see themselves as either/both.


	2. Crossroads

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I decided to continue this story, but more casually and with shorter chapters than my main stories. Mostly because I want to explore the Arcobaleno and how this Skull interacts with them.
> 
> I did a time skip here so we can get to the main action. I'll be mentioning what happened during that time as we move forward. 
> 
> Thanks for all of the positive feedback!

Skull is entirely skeptical of this checker face-iron hat-masquerade mask-mystery man-magician(?). 

At first they think he is just some bozo from Hollywood come to give a job offer the World’s Greatest Stuntman while being On Brand for whatever movie theme.  Of course, that doesn’t make it okay that he broke into their house, but you honestly get all types in show business.

When they walk into their apartment to find Mr. Mystery Man hovering dramatically in the corner, she still insists they throw the helmet under their arm at him ( _not as hard as possible, as that is in fact inhumanly hard and could have ruptured a few organs_ ) to teach a lesson about invading their personal space.  They are both duly surprised when the headgear seems to pass _through_ him.

“Hollywood magic,” she sneers.  To which he-Skull dryly points out that he thinks that holograms are not currently within the capability of 70’s Hollywood, and that she should be a little less of a skeptic, all things considered.

“Not quite,” the man smiles.  Skull can’t read him very well considering his eyes are somehow entirely covered by his mask, but they’re rather sure nothing about that smile is sincere.

They put their hands on their hips and stare accusingly at the invader, shifting to the balls of their feet in case they need to book it.  During the two years since she came into the picture, they’ve learned that they can be inhumanly strong ( _when they found out was a rather memorable occasion_ ) on top of being unable to die, but she prefers to err on the side of caution when it comes to new variables.  Who knows what kind of voodoo nonsense this could be.

They collectively decide to adopt their ( _absolutely obnoxious_ ) persona to test he man, “What are you doing in Skull-sama’s house?  The great me could have you thrown in jail!”

She still cringes at butchering Japanese conventions this way, even after he insisted they add it to their persona after passing through Japan almost a year ago.  When she complains that “white people” butchering Asian culture is just the Worst, he triumphantly thinks _exactly_. 

They had argued about what she thinks is his frankly unhealthy habit of painting himself white.  She understands that it is a good defense mechanism against racists that may come after them as they tour, but it has some pretty unpleasant connotations about his relationship with his ethnicity.  He says that it was always just a mask to play his persona and to make sure he didn’t get kicked out of a job for being Romani. 

The debate went on for months until he eventually appealed to her petty side by saying they could specifically tailor his persona to be the worst of White People.  Then they could be making fun of racists and annoying them with their very personality traits without them ever knowing.  Didn’t she love irony/satire/whatever it was?

And she, for as much as she rails against racism and internalized racism whenever possible, can _really_ get behind grandiose acts of Petty™.

So Skull’s painted mask stays and experiences a constant evolution in levels of obnoxiousness.

The Mystery Man takes a step and is suddenly in the kitchen, making a cup of tea, “I do not think that would go the way you would want it to.”

Skull blinks, reaches up to rub their eyes, stares hard where the man had been and is now distinctly _not_ , goes through whether or not they feel drugged,  stares at where the man is now calmly sipping tea that is not stocked in their kitchen, and says, “What the fuck.”

The man is suddenly back in the living room sipping tea a few feet away from them.  Trying to buy time to figure out what the ever loving _fuck_ is happening ( _A Magic Man???_ ) Skull starts rambling, “Are you a ghost?  Skull-sama does not know why you are lingering on this mortal plane, but you cannot stay in Skull-sama’s apartment.  This is a good neighborhood – what would the neighbors think?”

“I think you know I’m not a ghost,” the man cuts them off after finishing his tea and making the cup vanish with a flick of the wrist.

“Ah, of  course, a magician!  That explains the outfit.  You must have set up the mirrors and wires when Skull-sama was out,” they start waving their hand idiotically through the air, as if trying to touch one of these wires.

“I’m here to extend to you an invitation.  I’ve seen some of your crashes, Immortal Stuntman Skull, and I think your epithet is more than just a gimmick.”

Shit.

( _They’re going to experiment on them!_ he wails) Okay so magic man here clearly knows what we’re about ( _It’s the government, the_ man _!_ ) and if she had to guess, probably more than even they know what they’re about ( _They’re going to try and make them into weapons!_ ) so like they suspected his teleporting thing is probably more than a trick of the light and is actual “magic” ( _They’re gonna find more people like them and they’ll be evil X-men!_ ) so they’re probably _not_ outliers and there are others with… similar abilities ( _Except it wouldn’t be “X”-men because no doctor Xavier… is this guy from the USA or the Soviet Union?  It always seems to be one or the other_ ) though lord knows they can’t do anything similar to teleportation, although they discovered super strength so maybe they have other abilities ( _USA-men?  Red-men?  Patriot-men?  Comrade-men?_ )  Perhaps he is a representative from a magical government?  Like Harry Potter?  …didn’t Harry Potter have some rule about not being seen doing magic by non-magical people ( _They wouldn’t look good in red or red-white-blue – those governments are also way too conservative to allow for their awesome style_ ) like they’ve been doing with their “holding their bike up with one hand/feats of incredible strength” act and those resurrections when they take a spill? ( _And they wouldn’t be able to go where they want – they’d be chained down by the Law_ ) …Shit ( _…Shit_ )

Skull says, “You can take that up with my lawyer or your god, depending on if you see this as a legal or theological problem.”

“I don’t find this a problem at all.  In fact, I have been looking for people like you.”

( _Evil Patriot/Comrade-men!_ )

“I am forming a team of the Strongest Seven to do some jobs for me.”

“The strongest seven what?”

He smiles, “That’s the question.  Your question, actually.  Isn’t that what you have been searching for these past couple years?  To know exactly what you are?  If there are other like you?”

She knows a creeper when she sees one.  He knows a conman when he sees one.

Skull is both unimpressed and wary 

( _and curious.  She burns to understand.  He burns to belong._ )

The man flicks his wrist and a piece of paper appears in their hand.  He continues, “Just come to the location written on there.  There will be six others like you coming and you can get all the information you’ve been searching for.  You will not have to accept the job I offer you if you come, but know you will be handsomely paid.”

The chance to find a group of people like them that won’t be scared away by their abilities. Friends ( _maybe even family_ ).

Information to sate their curiosity and learn further about themselves.  Also money.

Tempting.

This man knows them a bit too well.

Skull looks up from the paper and is largely unsurprised to see the man is gone.  They decide to refer to him as the Magician, since they think it would annoy him at least a bit.  Even if he had shown no genuine emotion whatsoever. 

This is obviously a trap and it would be stupid to go.  They both know this.  But they also both have a hard time denying themselves something they really want, even if it is too good to be true.

They have no intention of taking whatever “job” Magician man has, they love their current occupation _thank-you-very-much_ , but the thought of meeting a group of people like them is too great.  They have started looking into people who might have powers like them, but they only found a bunch of glammed-up frauds.  This is the only lead they’ve had in almost two years.  Even if it is an incredibly sketchy one.

On top of information, even if she isn’t jazzed about making friends as much as he is, she was used to having a nice robust support system back in her life.  The thought of having people they could actually trust is a nice one. 

So, despite knowing it isn’t the smarter decision, they’ll go.

If it is a trap, they can likely get out of it.  What could hold someone both super strong and undying?

 


End file.
